


what goes around

by liionne



Series: Tumblr Prompts [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Amnesia, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tumblr Prompt, briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt? Post-WS, Bucky is in the wind, the Avengers are mostly scattered and Steve just drops off the map without warning. As months tick by, the Avengers get more and more worried, prompting recovering!Bucky to step in as CA. After a year and a half with no contact, they find deserumed Steve working at a coffee shop and living in Clint's building in Bed-Stuy with no memories prior to waking up deserumed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a brilliant prompt, but I feel like I've butchered it, maybe? I don't know. Unbeta'd, as usual!

It’s a flash of blonde hair and a familiar looking smile, and it makes Bucky’s heart stop. He knows that face better than the one that they plastered amongst various posters and billboards, the one that is still featured in the Smithsonian. He had known that face vaguely, a target and then not a target anymore, but  _this_  face. This face he knows only in softness, in winter nights spent huddling under a blanket with their arms wrapped around each other and all their clothes still on. This face he knows from dragging out of alleys, from cleaning up on the kitchen table to clutching close to him, begging him to  _please be careful_.

The face on the billboard is Captain Steve Rogers, but the man he can see through the window? That’s his Stevie.

He’s been working as Captain America ever since Steve dropped off the map, his disappearance a mystery to them all. He’d glared at Sam Wilson for days, until Sam had crumpled and explained that if he knew where Steve was, he wouldn’t have even hesitated to tell them, or to at least make him get in touch. He was just as distraught as the rest of them. Bucky left him alone after that.

But Captain America couldn’t just  _die_. If Captain America just  _died_ , any trust that the public had placed in him, in his image, would be gone. They’d demand answers. There’d be a crisis.

So Bucky had stepped in. How much can one tell beneath that cowl? Or with the suit on? Not much. Bucky was an easy replacement, however hard going it was at first.

But now he’s stood outside a fucking Starbucks feeling as vulnerable as ever. Captain America dropped off the map but there he is, he’s  _right there,_  his Stevie, just waiting for him. Bucky hesitates, staring at him through the window, and then he sucks in a breath, and heads inside.

He gets stuck in a queue with two or three people in front of him. Enough time to decide what he’s going to order, and to study Steve like a hawk. And it  _is_  him. It’s not some horrible coincidence. It’s him, and he’s there, and it says it right on his name tag:

_Steve :)_

Bucky tries not to crawl right out of his skin with impatience as he waits, creeping up the line slowly, hoping to god that he doesn’t get the other perky brunette server. He needs to see Steve. He needs to tell him to come home. He needs--

“Can I help you?”

That same deep voice, those same blue eyes. He smiles, but it wobbles, and Steve frowns. “Are you okay? If you need to sit down, I--”

“Steve.” He gasps, the name tumbling from between his lips in a rush. “I’m--”

“You should really sit down.” Steve insists, part confused and part concerned, shifting a little behind the counter.

“Steve, you have to come home.” He says, ignoring him. “The others-- they’re going to be so glad I found you. Steve, Stevie, c’mon. We need to go.”

Steve stares at him, face blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I  _have_  a home. Maybe you should just sit down, I’ll bring you some water--”

The blood drains away from Bucky’s face, heartbeat pounding in his ears, everything else becoming distant. Steve doesn’t remember. Steve doesn’t remember him. He doesn’t remember anything.

This is it. This is the karma coming back to bite him in the ass for all those people he killed, this is his punishment. And here he thought all those wipes were the punishment but, no, this is it. This is some divine punishment for doing something awful. Either that, or a  _nightmare_ , because how? How can he just get Steve back to lose him again? It’s not  _fair_.

He tries not to cry, head shaking. “I- uh-”

Steve hurries around the counter and takes Steve’s arm, allowing him to lead him over to a table in the corner. Bucky takes a deep breath in, and another, and another, until he’s not too close to hyperventilating anymore.

“Stevie,” He says, laying a hand on his arm when he returns. “Stevie, please tell me you remember.”

“Remember what?” Steve asks, confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Remember me. Remember us. Remember  _everything_ , please.” Bucky begs, but he doesn’t really know who he’s begging to, Steve, or God. “Please, you have to--”

“I’m sorry.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to be working. But if you need anything just tell me, okay?”

And then he goes, and Bucky is left to stare after him. He doesn’t touch the water that Steve brought him, and instead, he leaves. He can’t stay, he can’t keep watching Steve. Instead, he calls Natasha. There’s some surveillance to be done.

~*~

They tail Steve right through the streets. He walks, either too poor for a cab or just liking the stroll, and Bucky watches the hitching of his chest closely. This is Steve from before the serum, plain and simple, and from the inhaler-shaped lump in his pocket, he has just the same problems.

And he’s wearing hearing aids. Hearing aids, which surely means that he’s been out and been into the world like a functioning adult. It all shocks Bucky, but he doesn’t know why. He should be used to horror by now.

“I know this building.” Natasha squints, when they settle on the rooftop across the street. “Oh my god.”

Once Steve has disappeared inside, and been gone for a few minutes, she swung down from the rooftop they were on, scaled a few windowsills and walls, and landed with a gentle thump on the pavement. Bucky, meanwhile, fell like a stone. Regardless, they both ended up in the same place.

Natasha pressed one of the buttons by the door, and was greeted with a “Yeah?” Bucky knew that voice, he was sure.  _Barton_.

“Barton you better let me in before I climb up there and skin you.” Natasha said, her voice clear, and oddly calm, though each word carried a sharp edge.

Apparently, Barton got all that, so he obviously had his hearing aids turned all the way up. There was a buzz, and they were let into the building, Bucky following Natasha through the building.

Clint’s waiting for them when they get there, the front door open, his hands up in mock surrender. “he doesn’t remember anything, okay? And I was gonna tell you guys, I really was, but--”

“But  _what_?” Bucky hisses. His metal arm whirs, and he clenches his fist tightly, trying not to swing at the archer. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“He needed some time to get his head together, alright?” Barton asks. “Sort himself out. He didn’t remember a thing, c’mon. I wasn’t gonna pounce on him and tell him that he’s my good buddy ol’ pal Captain America, was I? He’d have laughed in my face!”

Natasha works her jaw, grinding her teeth, and Bucky huffs. “Which apartment is it?” Bucky asks. Barton looks like he’s about to protest, but Bucky fixes him with a glare so strong, he quickly changes his mind. 

“Downstairs, third along. 4a.”

Natasha gives him a small nod, but Bucky has already gone, marching out of the room and down the stairs. The other two follow, but when Bucky goes to thump on Steve’s door, Natasha presses a hand to his fist, pushing him back. She knocks twice, and they wait. 

The door swings open to reveal Steve, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, glasses perched on his nose, and he blinks. “...Hi?”

Bucky’s knees threaten to go weak. Natasha smiles. “Hi.” She says. “Steve. We need to talk to you.”

~*~

“I don’t... I don’t remember any of that.” Steve answers, head shaking. “I woke up with these, but I--”

He pulls over a shoe box, and he takes out his keys, and a sketchbook, and a photograph. He sets them out, and he picks up the sketchbook, flipping to one page. It’s Bucky, but from before the war, his head dipped, hair in his eyes, and his smile wide.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” Steve asks, and Bucky gives a stilted nod.

“You used to draw me all the time.” He says, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “Knew me from memory.”

Steve’s cheeks colour a little at that, and he looks away. He points to the photograph. “This is you too, huh?”

It’s a one of those dumb photobooth photos, just one from a reel of four, a picture of him and Steve. Sometimes, after Bucky came home, he had good days. This had been one of the good days, the two of them huddled together in a photobooth. Whilst on the others Bucky seems a little bit uncomfortable, on this one he’s looking at Steve like he hung the moon, and Steve is looking at Bucky pretty much the same way. 

“That’s you too.” Steve says, not a question, but a statement. He taps the photo. “Who’s that?”

“That’s you.” Bucky says, voice wavering. “It’s you.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t remember.” He murmurs. Bucky looks up at Natasha and Clint, pleading. He doesn’t know what to  _do_.

“We have some friends who might be able to help.” Natasha says. “To help you get your memories back. If that’s what you want.”

Steve looks up at her, and he casts a glance to Bucky. “Yeah.” He says. “That’s what I want.” 

Natasha nods, and pulls out her phone. She taps it a few times, and brings it to her ear.

“Stark? Get Banner. We need you in the lab.”

Steve looks up at Bucky, considering, and Bucky tries to give him a smile. “It’s going to be okay.” He says. Steve doesn’t seem convinced, but he nods. 

Bucky says a silent prayer; he needs Bruce and Tony to fix this. He needs his Stevie back.


	2. You say these words again and again (but they still sound the same)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He lands with a gentle thud, cat-like, and looks up to see Steve on the sofa, in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweats, glasses perched on his nose, sketching. He isn’t wearing his hearing aid, so it takes a moment before he notices Bucky’s entrance.
> 
> “Hi.” He smiles.
> 
> Bucky pauses, and gives him a gentle smile. “Hey.”

Bucky runs to the end of the building, flips, and lands in a crouch on the ledge of another. His chest heaves, blood drying quickly in his hair and on his forehead, suit torn in places, shield otherwise unharmed. The man who taught him to use his strength to his advantage, to use a little energy as possible when he moves, use momentum over muscles, does not exist anymore. He was lost some time ago; but regardless, Bucky carries on. He slips down the fire escape one level at a time, and swings, catapulting himself into the awaiting open window.

He lands with a gentle thud, cat-like, and looks up to see Steve on the sofa, in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweats, glasses perched on his nose, sketching. He isn’t wearing his hearing aid, so it takes a moment before he notices Bucky’s entrance.

“Hi.” He smiles.

Bucky pauses, and gives him a gentle smile. “Hey.”

He leans the shield up against the wall, and closes the window, locking it after himself. He knows fine well that the front door and all other windows are locked; Steve could unlock his, if he wanted to, but he tells Bucky that he doesn’t. Bucky sometimes goes in and opens it for fresh air whilst he sleeps, but he keeps that to himself. Might be putting them both at risk, but a locked window can’t exactly stop a bullet, or a grenade, or a god damn nuke, so one open window every so often isn’t going to hurt anyone.

Steve watches him for a moment, gaze lingering before he looks down, flushing. God, but Stevie was always an open book. Bucky smiles at the familiarity, and kicks off his combat boots, tugging off layer after layer of Kevlar and lycra until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers. The suit needs a good wash, and a few repairs. He’ll send it to Coulson in the morning.

“What are you doing up?” Bucky asks, checking the clock as he walks to the small kitchenette. Steve isn’t _entirely_ deaf, so Bucky speaks loud enough that he can hear him, even with his back turned. Bucky still doesn’t remember a lot from the very early days, but this must be muscle memory, because it comes right back to him as if it never left.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Steve answers. “Coughing.”

Bucky nods as he walks back into the living room with a beer, well deserved after another hard day Avenger-ing. “Your immune system’s pretty sucky.” He agrees.

Steve nods, and smiles at him. Soft blue eyes linger momentarily on Bucky’s lips, and then dart away, and Bucky’s only response is to bring his bottle to those lips.

He’s done this twice before himself. He fell in love with Steve the first time around when he was 14 and Steve was 13, running around Brooklyn together, getting into scrapes. He fell in love with him again when he managed to wrench through the programming that had clouded his mind and stolen him from the world.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to do it again.

They couldn’t turn him back. Bruce said there was no trace of the serum in his body, not anywhere, and that means that there’s no switching it on again. He’s little forever. As for his memories? Probably gone with the serum, but they could come back. Maybe.

None have yet.

But that’s okay. They get on well. Steve moved in not long ago and they’re almost back to best friends again. It astounds Sam, honestly, who has a tendency to look between the two of them as if they’re both sporting two heads. It’s not like that, Bucky thinks. It’s not weird. Steve is the same guy, Bucky is the same (well, _kind_ of the same. Alright, not at all the same) guy, and they’ve always gotten on well together before. Why not now?

But recently, in the last two weeks or so, Bucky has noticed it. The little glances and blushes, the fumbling over his words. Steve isn’t just becoming Bucky’s friend, he’s crushing on him. Maybe even _falling in love_ with him.

Bucky smiles, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep either; too buzzed.”  Steve smiles at him; he knows Bucky’s staying up with him. He’ll stay until Steve falls asleep again, and only then will he fall face-down on his own bed.

“Want me to model for you?” He asks, and Steve’s blush only grows deeper, a pink stain against porcelain skin.

“Sure.” He nods, flipping the page. Bucky is sure he catches a glimpse of his own face, but he lets it slide. “I’d like that.”

So Bucky shifts, positions himself into something slightly more dignified, as dignified as in his pants and drinking beer can get. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He sketches away, lower lip caught between his teeth, until eventually, he falls asleep, head resting against the couch cushion.

Bucky, whose beer bottle has long since been empty, stands gracefully, and covers him with a blanket. He leaves his bedroom door open, so he’ll know if Steve has anymore coughing fits, and he settles into a dreamless, heavy sleep.

~*~

A few days pass; a week, almost. Steve keeps doing that funny thing around him, tripping over his words as well as his feet, staring at him when he thinks Bucky isn’t looking, blushing when he realises that Bucky _has_ noticed. It’s adorable. It’s _amazing_.

Bucky might just get his Stevie back.

He isn’t about to force anything. He’s nervous as all hell that he’s reading this wrong, but then, wasn’t Steve always easy to read? He was when he was all big and strong. Bucky’s not too sure about when he was little, like he is now, but he figures he must have been. It’s a safe enough bet.

He’s going to let this run its course. He’ll just have to see how it goes.

~*~

“So, I mean, you and Romanoff…?”

Bucky looks at Steve over the island in the kitchen as he spears up some noodles, eyes narrowing for a second. He has a feeling he knows what Steve is trying to ask here, but he doesn’t want to be presumptuous. He arches a dark eyebrow.

“Romanoff and I?”

Steve’s face is slowly turning a shade of beet red. Bucky’s never known anyone to blush so easily in all his life.

“Are you two, uh—“ Steve shrugs frail shoulders, fiddling nervously with his chopsticks. “Are you guys… dating?”

Bucky’s mouth twists into a somewhat amused smile, but he tries to make it seem more gentle, welcoming. He doesn’t want Steve to think bucky’s mocking him, because that’s the _last_ thing he’s doing.

“No, we’re not. Nat’s not really inclined to romance, I think.” He says, and he pops a piece of sweet and sour pork in his mouth.

“Oh.” Steve murmurs. He nods. “Right.”

“Why?” He asks, head tilting. “Want me to put in a good word with her for you? ‘Cause I can, y’know. Maybe it’s just _me_ she doesn’t like.”

Steve’s expression turns into something resembling that of a deer stuck in car headlights. “What? No.” He says. “no, uh, I’m not—not interested in Nat. Not really interested in girls at all, so…”

Huh. That’s a development. Old Steve was bi, not gay. Things change, Bucky supposes.

“I was just curious.” Steve shrugs, face a very unhealthy looking puce colour as he picks at the rest of his vegetable noodles.

Bucky tries not to look _too_ smug as he sucks up another noodle between his lips.

~*~

Steve was always the bravest out of the two of them. _Always_. Bucky remembers something about being enlisted and that it scared the living daylights out of him. It was the thought of Steve, and his bravery, that pushed him into it.

So he shouldn’t be too surprised when it’s Steve who speaks up, just as Bucky’s about to head over to the Tower for the day, “Would you, uh—would you like to go on a date, sometime? With me?”

Bucky nearly falls over his own two feet, one hand on the door handle to steady himself. “I—“

“You don’t have to!” Steve interjects quickly, blinking furiously. “I just, I thought—“

Bucky beams at him. “I’d like that.” He interrupts, sure that his smile is about to split his face in two.

“Oh.” Steve says, as if that’s not what he was expecting. Steve smiles brightly. “How about tonight?” He says. “I know it’s soon, but I mean, we live together, so—I could just meet you for dinner after work?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” He agrees. “Yeah, I’d definitely like that, Stevie. I’ll see you later.”

What he wants to do is to cross the room and kiss steve like it’s going out of style, but he doesn’t. No, rather, he leaves, head ducked, a few locks of hair falling into his eyes. Steve wants to go on a date with him. Steve _likes_ him.

Today is a good day.

~*~

It turns out to _not_ be a good day.

Bucky, Steve’s emergency contact, gets a call ten minutes before he’s due to clock off and go and meet Steve at the Italian restaurant a few streets away. It’s Steve’s co-worker, Rachel, telling him that Steve is being taken to hospital. That cough he kept insisting was a flu? Pneumonia.

Bucky rethinks the past few days, weeks. The coughing, the blushes – he probably had a _fever_. Jesus, Bucky’s an idiot. A complete idiot. He’d assumed that Steve had been sleeping during the day to make up for what he was missing during the night with his coughing, not that he was fatigued, lethargic.

Steve is a jackass.

Bucky is an even _bigger_ jackass.

He rushes to the hospital, throwing himself through double doors after double doors, searching for Steve. A nurse eventually points him in the right direction, and he skids into the room to see Steve hooked up to a hell of a lot of tubes and even more machines, all beeping and whirring at various paces.

Bucky doesn’t like hospitals. In fact, he hates the damn things. But he’ll _live_ in a hospital if it’s what Steve needs.

“Buck.” Steve croaks, raising one IV riddled hand in a wave.

“You’re a jackass.” Bucky says, stepping into the room, moving immediately to take Steve’s hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Steve gives a shrug, and coughs. He sounds raspy. How didn’t Bucky notice all of this?

“Guess I thought it would clear up.” Steve says, and Bucky visibly deflates, holding Steve’s hand in his own.

“You should’ve been more careful. _I_ should’ve been more careful.” Buck sighs, looking at Steve. Steve looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Silence lapses between them for a brief second, and then Steve gives a wonky smile.

“I ruined our date, huh?”

Bucky pauses, and then he chuckles weakly. “Yeah.” He says. “Kind of. But it doesn’t matter.”

However infectious and gross Steve might be right now, Bucky leans up and kisses him, a soft press of lips against lips that leaves him smiling as he pulls away. Steve looks at him, startled.

“That was still pretty good, right? Even if the setting is a little off.” Bucky grins, and Steve – Steve gives this stupid, dopey grin, and he nods.

“Pretty good.” He agrees.

“Shall we do it again?” Bucky asks, and Steve hums, pretending to think about it.

“I think we should.” Steve nods, leaning in to seal his lips over Bucky’s, a kiss so gentle and so sweet, Bucky thinks he might just melt all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts/questions/comments are welcome at [my tumblr](http://achaiion.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts, questions and comments can be sent to [achaiion](http://achaiion.tumblr.com)


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